This Hating Game
by Montague Disciple
Summary: Twenty-four tributes, as diverse as the twelve Districts from which they are taken, unwittingly united by one thing: the hatred in their lives. As they are killed off, one by one, we see the emotion surface that most never realised until now. Drabble
1. Mal Burnam, District Nine

**A/N: I know it's hardly an original idea, but please give it a go if you're reading this! And yes, the chapters are very short. It took me a while to get them all down to exactly 100 words...(don't ask).**

DAY ONE: THE BLOODBATH AT THE CORNUCOPIA

'_It's mine!. How dare she take __my pack?_'

My mind says, '_She has as much right to it as you.'_ I ignore it. Survivors – winners – don't have doubts. Though I...don't _want_ to win, if it means killing...I hate this. The Capitol.

And, nearly, her.

She's strong, but when she drops something I see my chance and _tug_.

Jerked. Tasting blood. The blade's coldness, followed by humiliation as I fall.

First to go...


	2. Coriander Loxley, District Three

I turn, reaching for weapons; tributes sweep them away. They ignore me – with my underwhelming stature and four in training, I'm no threat – but someone fires an arrow in my direction. It misses. I bend for a spear, which is snatched.

I straighten, annoyed, and find myself staring into the dull eyes of my fellow Three.

Dull, emotionless, as he sends the spear into my neck.

'_Traitor! I hate..._' but the thought is lost. I don't hate Finn – I hate the Hunger Games, for doing this to us.


	3. Florra Hart, District Seven

I sprint for woodland.

Not blindly; through branches, I see something, and hope blossoms within me...

Roses! Not awful red ones we grow for the Capitol, wild ones - tiny petals and no thorns - that flourish in our meagre gardens. Illegally. '_Without the Capitol, they'd bloom unchecked. We could all be free_...' I realise angrily.

I run on, flowers bringing memories: home, my twin Leyla. Lally.

A sword. Sudden pain.

I fall, roses' sweetness dulling my agony. Fine place to die. Lally'd like it.


	4. Larkspur Blue, District Seven

Florra runs. Good. Too weak.

I'm not. I can fight – kill, though?. I hate that thought; I'm no hating guy. Any escape? No. Just hope my current opponent – a girl, coffee-skinned (a Niner, like poor Mal, gone already) – can't either.

I see Florra's crazy happy face before the boy appears behind her. His sword flashes – I cry out.

Maia – that's her name – strikes, knife driving into me. We go down in the same moment, Florra and I, and with us our District's hopes of winning this macabre 'game'.


	5. TrixLyn Cantie, District Ten

How could the Capitol force him into this? Leo, crippled, no chance of survival...but it's easy to hate him too. To see that his carelessness – getting caught in that snare years ago – has put pressure to win on me. He's not going to last with that foot, is he? He's hobbled off, but he won't get far; They'll catch up.

I don't like the look of that District Five boy, or the knife in his hand...

He aims for the neck; I'm glad it will be quick.


	6. Rigel Lassiter, District Five

"See them as nothing more than objects, as things to despise and kill. Hate them for standing in the way of your survival. There is to be no mercy," my mentor insisted. "No emotion while you're in there."

So no pity for the doomed lovers of District 12. Or for the crippled boy, whose partner's throat is against my knife.

She sinks to the floor. I've done it, killed someone.

No use knowing she would have done the same. I am engulfed by forbidden remorse, and crumple onto my own blade.


	7. Dante Doro, District Eight

'_Reminds me of home_,' I realise. A tribute dies._' But better. I prefer it here.'_

'Home' means a knife in your belt wherever you go, including your house. Having brothers who'd cut you up for fun, parents who would just stand by. Home...where the hate is.

Different here; everyone's equal. Interesting, seeing who chooses to fight, who thinks they can and who doesn't.

Watching, fascinated – as I am felled by a spear – blood stain earth.

Thinking my last. _'Still prefer here.'_


	8. Skimble Mandalay, District Six

I was right - twelve-year-olds with threes escape...

I have supplies. Enough for the horror of the Games I have so far survived.

Someone's seen my load - I'm tackled down.

Instinct grips the straps. Sense regrets it.

A hiss. "So, the hard way." My arms are _twisted..._

My scream – entertainment for the Capitol, torture for my family – is crushed...

Cameras record my death - no peace for the dying.

A hidden one beeps somewhere –

'_Smile...'_


	9. Piper Overdale, District Six

Not many left at the Cornucopia now - alive, that is. Here, the dead, lying beaten and bloodless on this twisted battlefield, outnumber us. The unfortunate living. Those that remain to kill…to be killed.

I'm no murderer; my empty hands are unstained. I intend to keep it that way. They kill for hate, and perhaps I don't have enough of that to survive this hating game…

When the spear tears through me a moment later I struggle against the rising tide of agony to hate my killer, and find I can't.


	10. Maia Layrd, District Nine

I bury the knifeblade in his stomach (names aren't important; lives are forfeited in this game) and, satisfied, watch him topple uselessly over. I'm good at this killing lark.

My mistake is removing the knife. Crimson drips – tepid, slick – onto my hands. Like tears, disregarded pleas for mercy.

I hate blood.

Knife dropped, I try to back away, but slip in the horrible pool spreading from the wound. Easy prey for the boy with the spear.

Cato.

The one I killed, his name was Larkspur. Larkspur Blue.


	11. Blenny Gill, District Four

Nine here: my pack, or rather Cato's; Thresh; Peeta, and fox-like Five...Astra or something.

I hate Peeta most, for mocking me. Small sword ready – Cato's is biggest – I head towards the baker's son.

"Fishboy!" '_Die, scum. I'll crush you like a…'_

"Petal!" I yell. We circle each other.

Then, suddenly, Peeta wrestles me down, _stabs._

Pain, indignation, burn. I trained years for this, didn't volunteer just to die on Day One!

"I hate you, _Petal!"_

END OF DAY ONE: THE BLOODBATH AT THE CORNUCOPIA

**Opinions? Any favourite characters/names so far? (I think mine's Larkspur.)**


	12. Elira Hecate, District Eight

DAY TWO: THE BIGGEST IDIOT IN THE GAMES

_Epan's in the grass. There's a snake there, a rattleadder. "No!" doesn't stop the muttation sinking its fangs into him..._

_People running. Our parents? _

_Too many feet –_

- and too late I'm awake. Screaming for myself now. A sword catches the firelight; time to hate myself for my stupidity. Then pain...

**...**

Alive. Can I make it?...Footsteps quash hope. Arms reach towards me, momentarily confusing. Am I home?

My neck twists, and I understand.


	13. Arapaima Moray, District Four

DAY FIVE: TRACKER JACKER ATTACK

It comes whistling down.

I'm close enough to see the strange paper it's wrapped in, that it's broken free of its parachute.

It lands, shatters; wasps burst out.

'_Some gift.'_ The first stinger jabs my neck. Don't mind wasps, but _these..._

Droplets of acid sizzle against my skin. There's a hole in my arm. Full of maggots.

Beetles crawl down my throat as I scream and scream. I force my webbed feet to stagger fowards. Got to reach the lake...


	14. Glimmer Sabelin, District One

"_Never enough. Unlike Jewel. My _better _daughter didn't fall asleep!"  
_

My watch! Cato'll _kill_ me...He can't. I'm burning; I should be dead.

Cannons. No. Heartbeats?

Devil-Cato thunders past. I knew he had no heart.

I shriek for him to take the pain away; my sword-tongue blisters in the fire.

_I'm_ on fire, not Katniss!

Flaming, I concentrate on hating that District Twelve tramp for daring to be more beautiful at the interviews...

END OF TRACKER JACKER ATTACK


	15. Leo Delaney, District Ten

DAY EIGHT: VICTIM OF THE CAREERS

Limping away, I don't imagine the hundred horrible deaths They have devised. I think through the Games – outlasting Trixy, reaching Day Eight. I _should've_ died seven days ago. Seven _years_.

No-one expected, wanted me to live after Rem's trap. Useless for cattle work, sentenced to death by my best friend; never forgave him.

They've caught up on the lakeshore - unarmed. Will they take turns beating me to death?

With one push, Cato sends me flailing into the lake.

Can't swim...


	16. Finn Hanna, District Three

'_Please let some of them be active. Please. Preferrably that one by Cato...'_ Rocks land in the shattered remains of our camp. If I set off a mine now, then maybe he won't blame me for the malfunction which destroyed our supplies.

Well, he can't if we're all dead, can he?

Stones hail long after I know there's no hope. I throw them out of anger, thinking in particular of how Coriander got in my way at the Bloodbath, practically forced me to kill her.

Cato lunges at me, and, in the moment I choose flight over joining Cor -

END OF DAY EIGHT: VICTIM OF THE CAREERS

**A/N: Yes, it is meant to cut off like that. **


	17. Haze Dracorn, District One

DAY NINE: LAST REQUEST

Steps to my latest victim each represent a kill. _Left. _Dante. _Right. _Piper. _Left. _Maia. I like to be on first-name terms with them...unlike Cato. He's horribly effective with his 'inhuman killing machine' technique –horrible being the operative word – but I've done what he failed to do.

Net Monkeygirl.

The sight of pathetically tiny Rue all caught up in my trap is so good that sending a spear in would almost spoil the view...

'_Nah. Improve it.'_ My spear goes in as Katniss arrives. Shoots.

The fire in her eyes is surpassed by the fire in my neck.


	18. Rue Lorisand, District Eleven

"Going to win for both of us now." I should want it to be Thresh, but he didn't protect me, watch over me, need me. Have a sister to return to, like I did once, like Katniss does...

Prim. Jealousy sparks, but I dispel it. Prim is just lucky to have Katniss as a sister. I hope she doesn't think I've taken her place...

The world is quiet, too quiet, so I whisper, "Sing."

She swallows, then...

_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you._

I love you too, Katniss.

END OF DAY NINE: LAST REQUEST

**A/N: This is not meant as slash.**


	19. Clove Desiree

DAY THIRTEEN: FEASTS ALWAYS RESULT IN FATALITIES

"CATO!"

'_Idiot!' _I berate myself. _'How could you bring _him _into this?'_

If Cato comes running now, Thresh will kill me without hesitation, then Cato. That idea is too horrible to contemplate...

"Clove!" Oh no.

He's going to rush straight in – too far away, too late for me.

Thresh's rock cleaves my world in two, and I fall, moaning.

The beast runs.

Then Cato is beside me, clutching my hand. "Don't leave me, Clove. _Please."_

I can't answer, can't move, can't see. Can only die.

He curses Thresh vehemently. At last we are together, united in our hatred of him.


	20. Thresh Marriot

DAY FIFTEEN: DURING THE THUNDER

And so he comes. Through the storm, with his night-vision goggles, his grudge against me.

I killed Clove, his...what to call her? _Soulmate_ seems inappropriate for one with no heart; _girlfriend_, too tame. I settle for simply _mate._

His pack murdered my friend Rue, and he will pay.

Ready to die, Cato?

I realise the answer...no. He's unprepared to lose.

Can I kill again? Rue...wouldn't want another death.

Stepping sideways, into the scorpion nest that I observed on Day One, I laugh through the flash of pain at the outrage on Cato's cheated face.

"Happy Hunger Games, Cato Ferox!"


	21. Aster Coran

DAY SIXTEEN: IGNORANCE THAT BROUGHT HER DOWN

Savour it. Each mouthful a minute. Not enough.

Neither my stomach nor cunning are satisfied. If I can't get those berries from under their noses, I won't survive.

How can Katniss – a seasoned hunter by the look of her – not have noticed me hiding so close? I wouldn't expect Peeta to – he's an idiot – but is it possible his presence is distracting her? Surely the 'star-crossed lovers' were acting?...

Perfect moment to take the food. I run in, grab the berries and swallow them whole – too late realising the danger.

In the end, hunger takes me out of the Hunger Games.


	22. Cato Ferox, District Two

Failure. Not something I'm familiar with.

"_You WILL win, District Two." _My mentor, Brutus. I'd no doubt then that he was right.

At that point I had all my limbs. No doubt that I was in fact a human and not a dog toy.

"_You WILL win, son."_ My father. Watching me die _last_.

'_You WILL win, Cato." _Breaking our promise, worst pain of all. Clove. I swore I'd triumph.

Hatred - of everything that isn't suffering – blocks out all else.

Then gratitude. For the arrow, for the girl on fire. The girl who made me lose the Hunger Games.


End file.
